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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24584866">I Need More Dreams And Less Life</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zesty_breadbin/pseuds/zesty_breadbin'>zesty_breadbin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bandom, Fall Out Boy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Happy Ending, M/M, Reunion, Scarecrow - Freeform, The Wizard of Oz - Freeform, a weird and heavily twisted au to fit the bizarre plot, some magic going on, there is not really a plot actually, tinman - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:14:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,240</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24584866</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zesty_breadbin/pseuds/zesty_breadbin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An unknown force has disturbed the land of Oz. Pete and Patrick are separated and transformed into something unrecognisable. Perhaps fate has brought them together again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Lights! Camera! Peterick!</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Need More Dreams And Less Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun rises on the same sky, the yellow orb slowly rotating along the same orbit perfectly hitting the lights of the vibrant city as it always had. Shining over every surface it can get to, crawling across each valley, mountain, river, and living being until they have all absorbed it's glorious warmth. It then descends into the yellow pattern woven into the land like a patchwork quilt, finishing the routine of perfection with a flash of emerald projecting onto the splendor of abundance it shines upon everyday, casting long shadows behind the last blinding glare. Darkness proceeds, punctuated by a silver stream that glows and delicates all the features of the night. Drinking in the serenity and tranquil air of something just out of sight, no eye could ever see through the fog that clouds the things that remain hidden. Then, streaks of color grazes the sky and it begins again. It is this flawless procedure that oversees the happenings in the land of Oz. This is perfection, grace, wonder, shaped into a sheltered spherical world like a globe with the life inside spinning through the days and nights unaware of what dwells beyond their skies. Until somebody shakes it up, causing a whirlwind of catastrophe to lay asunder their blissful reality. Like a storming twister, bringing only desolation among them. Everything is thrown out of balance.</p><p>~*~</p><p>Darkness is all Pete can see. He has been passing through lengths of bush and cobwebs and brambles for what feels like ages, looking for something that might help his problem. He does not know what it is, but it must be something to aid him and Patrick. They are all they have for each other and all that they will ever have. </p><p>Trees pass him like mere shadows. They stay silent, their roots crawling over the forest floor, seeking something unknown. Just like Pete and all the other beings that wander arbitrarily through this portion of the land. Searching creatures find their way to the woods and they stay, forever wandering for something they do not know.</p><p>With each hour that draws nearer to what he dreads, Pete becomes more frantic. He had thought that nothing could ever tear their hearts away from each other. But that was proved wrong to him and now he has come to realise that he may just lose Patrick forever to something not even worthy of the blurriest dream or careless memory in due time if he does not find something fast.</p><p>A flash like lightning catches Pete's eye. He turns and sees more, moving quickly through the woods, almost trying to hide from an unknown force that is chasing it. Something about its movements are familiar, and Pete struggles to lay a finger on what he recognises. He figures that it is probably a small bug that glows in the dark. However, he stares transfixed as it darts from one tree to the next, never touching anything yet seeming to completely merge into whatever it decides to hide behind. Like something that should be unprecedented but has actually existed for centuries.</p><p>Pete wanders closer, and comes upon a clearing, illuminated in the moonlight. But the clearing would have been lit without the moon, as the flashing becomes brighter and more intense. It seems that with each blink, another dash of light appears and that is when Pete remembers. He knows now why he recognised it and stands there rooted to the spot in terror but also wonder at something like this would ever be dared to be cast again. </p><p>They are the beginnings of a spell. An ancient and almost obsolete spell that he is only too unfortunate to recognise. He knows his and Patrick's fate now, and there is nothing he can do to change that.</p><p>~*~</p><p>Clear skies and a beautiful sun is all he can see. It is all he ever has seen, in fact. It gives him a lot of opportunity to think about the world. Also, being at a crossroads of a very busy road, he often receives news, which always excites him. </p><p>He hears the news before the news comes to him, which has never happened before because nobody tells him anything ever. Not even something small like how the smoke from last night's bonfire travelled across two entire counties before liquidizing into the river. He was terrified after seeing that piece of news because when there is smoke, there is fire and he does not want to be caught in the middle of a corn field with fire on the loose. Or another time when two animals were passing by his field and decided to leave their unborn child alone in the woods. That piece of news was just sad and made him want to see how the child was doing but couldn't because he was a bundle of straw gathered in a sack tied to a wooden post with rusty nails that would probably be quite tedious if he were flesh and bone. That is something he wants to find out, what it is like to have nerves and pain receptors. He wants to find out a lot of things, in fact, but the means of obtaining that information is a bit complicated on his end for reasons he has spent many times over pondering.</p><p>He has a theory, and it is not all that thoughtful but he likes to think that it is the effort that counts. His theory is that he has not got a brain. A mind. Not a single thought has passed through him as he is only made of straw. Explaining why he can talk and theorise if he does not have a brain is hard, but that is the only reason that is possible. This does not bother him, since he has no brain he cannot comprehend feelings right? He heard somewhere amongst the whispers that pass him by everyday that consciousness and thought do not go hand in hand, whatever that means. But he understands it enough to figure out that he is a conscious being, but unable to process any thought. That is why he knows so many things while seemingly having no previous experience in anything other than the crossroads in which he has observed for as long as he can remember. </p><p>This is all but nonsense to anyone but him, as nobody fails to point out whenever he indulges in sharing. Sometimes he cannot remember all of his wonderings as often as he wants, and he is deemed as dimwitted. Although his interactions are very brief, he enjoys them very much. There is not much for a scarecrow to do in a corn field, especially when that scarecrow cannot even serve his sole purpose of scaring the crows.</p><p>Incidentally, as he ponders over what some people are doing at this very moment, somebody is strolling along the yellow brick road. His excitement peaks as they come closer and are revealed to be munchkins, who are notorious for sharing the latest news in Oz. One is rather tall for a munchkin, striding along faster than his companion who is almost jogging to keep up. Judging their attire of bright blue patterns and ridiculous headwear, they are from the east in Munchkin land. They are already immersed in a conversation as they approach his crossroads and he waits for them to stop and ask which way to go; they always do this. </p><p>"I swear to Oz, I've never seen anything like it!" the tall one exclaims, a big grin upon his face.</p><p>His companion, equally excited but a bit more out of breath, nods and huffs to express his agreement.</p><p>"We must hurry to the city to deliver this splendid news. Come along Gillian!" he looks around with sparkles in his eyes, quickly trying to determine which path to take. </p><p>Gillian, relief upon his face of stopping, leans down to rest his hands upon his bent knees and asks, "So which way to go?"</p><p>"I-I haven't the faintest clue. Weren't you in charge of directions?"</p><p>Gillian stands upright, his eyebrows creased. "Me? For the sake of goodness, Martin. You only swept me up in this journey so you could have someone to talk to," he says as he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes at the sweat dripping from his forehead. </p><p>"I brought you along because I'm not well versed in the lands around here," Martin says, gazing around the field and then back at Gillian. "And I always need someone to talk to,"</p><p>"How 'bout you's try that way?" </p><p>The both of them jump, Gillian's handkerchief drops to the ground, and their heads turn to the unexpected voice that came from the figure hanging on the wooden post, except his arm is pointing to the left and he is staring into nothing as the munchkins look at each other in surprise.</p><p>"Or you could try the other way," his left arm drops as the right one raises itself to point in the opposite direction, still maintaining the vacant expression and pleasant conversational tone of voice. </p><p>"Did that scarecrow just talk or am I a multicoloured horse?" Martin mutters out of the corner of his mouth, not ceasing to stare like a panda at the pointing sack of straw.</p><p>"Of course, one of you's could go that way and the other this way if you's are so willing," he continues, raising his left arm to point in both directions. </p><p>"My goodness, it did talk!" says Gillian, patting Martin roughly several times on the arm and starting to move closer to the scarecrow. He is pulled back though, and forced behind his companion who is wearing a glare.</p><p>"Careful Gillian, never trust something that shouldn't be able to talk but can," turning to the scarecrow, he says in a raised voice,"Why should we trust you?"</p><p>"Why, I suppose because I haven't anything to gain from lying to you's. All I want to do is be included in a little news around here," he tries to put as much nonchalance in his expression, which would not have even been needed if Martin had not been staring like that.</p><p>"We don't know you," Martin says with the same vigor in his incessant fixation on him, who feels that is very obvious.</p><p>"Well indeed, that's very obvious. But perhaps I can be of some assistance on that subject. I have been attached to this post for as long as I can remember; a very long time I promise you's. Many abroad have passed through here, heading to and from the Emerald City on various missions of their own individual business. Swear I mean no harm. I'm just a scarecrow who like hearing news from the places I have never roamed, which is about every place. You's look to be going on some important business, what's the splendid news that's so urgent to deliver?" he stops talking as the munchkins begin backing away; He thinks they are starting to panic.</p><p>"We're going to the Emerald City! We come from Munchkin land where a young lady has just fallen from the sky and dropped a house on the Wicked Witch of the East," Gillian says impulsively, despite being hushed and elbowed by Martin.</p><p>"How did you come to talk and think? You've got a name from all the time you spent there?" Martin asks the eager listener who is starting to get annoyed at him for asking these questions.</p><p>He shakes his head and addresses the soil, "Alas, I haven't got a brain, so I don't know how I can talk. As for my name, I'm afraid I haven't got one of those either. Some folks just call me 'Scarecrow' and move on,"</p><p>"Well that's just ridiculous, everyone's got a brain! If you didn't have a brain, you wouldn't be talking and thinking! You'd just be standing there and doing nothing, lifeless," Gillian says.</p><p>"That's just the thing, I don't think-"</p><p>"Well I'll say! You do have a name!" Martin exclaims, pointing to something below his chin. He moves closer, putting on spectacles and reaching for something around his neck. "Pete,"</p><p>"Pete?" the scarecrow almost cannot believe it, after all this time and he never realised his own name was with him.</p><p>"Pete," Gillian confirms, stepping forward to see as Martin raises the name stitched to a scrap of fabric.</p><p>"How wonderful! I've got a name!" Pete feels like jumping and dancing and perhaps this is the best day of his existence. He is so happy that he would do just about anything in that moment, even dare to venture away from his corn field, but the munchkins are retreating back and seem to have felt no change at all at the revelation they have revealed.</p><p>"It appears you do, Pete," Gillian says and it feels so good to be addressed by his name.</p><p>"Now, congratulations to you, Pete. But we really should be going now, we've stood here long enough," Martin says, going back to examining the different paths to take.</p><p>Pete, much more obliged to help now that he has got his news and a name to ponder about, points to the left and offers, "Since you's are coming from the east and are headed to the city, it would be the western direction you's want to follow,"</p><p>"Why thank you very much, kind Pete. All the best to you!" Gillian waves as Martin is already striding away, "And perhaps you might encounter the young lady who was sent to journey to the city as well," </p><p>"Oh I hope so. Good day to you's!" Pete shouts after them, already engaged in another conversation about something entirely different probably. He chuckles to himself and goes back to pondering about the world.</p><p>It takes only the amount of time for him to recite every name he has ever come across of every being that he can remember when she comes along, muttering to herself, "follow the yellow brick road, follow the yellow brick road," and accompanied by a small dog weaving around her legs. She seems very lost. Now is Pete's moment.</p><p>~*~</p><p>Patrick is standing so close to the edge he might as well be airborne. It is such a shame to wait for so long. And not even knowing what you are waiting for. This entire premise is based on questions. And they are questions that may not even have answers. He only hopes something will appear to give some kind of meaning to all this nonsense. </p><p>The green flash beams throughout the land, and from the top of the highest point in Oz, Patrick cannot help but marvel at the beauty of it all. Standing so high, nothing seems like it could reach him. Trouble seems non-existent, unrealistic when looking down from this high.</p><p>Pete bursts from the clumps of trees and Patrick gasps in surprise, nearly slipping off the edge. The look in Pete's eyes says it all. They are doomed. </p><p>They run to each other, soaking up the last moments they have until everything they know is destroyed. Brilliant stars shine above them as purple mist begins to unwind from a beautiful but deadly lightning storm happening form the other side of the land. They know they have limited time so they make the best of what little they can do. The night engulfs them in a promising gesture to keep their love forever, keeping it for when they can be together again. </p><p>The wind seems to carry all of the deeds done before them, but none so gruesome and cruel as this. </p><p>Patrick never thought that he could feel so intense before this moment, but his heart feels like it is being ripped from its cage. The tighter he holds Pete, the harder he kisses, the faster his tears come, the pain becomes more intense like nothing he has ever felt before. </p><p>Pete makes promises to him. Promises that he will not even remember in due time. His words of never forgetting fades and are stolen as the mist finally reaches them and Patrick watches, tears streaming down his cheeks as the light fades from Pete's eyes. His memories, his joy, his entire identity is removed from Pete right in front of Patrick.</p><p>Then Patrick feels it. He collapses to the ground, grasping at his chest. He knew this would happen. He had enough time to prepare for the worst. But this is beyond whatever brutality he expected the mist would bring him. He cannot reach his heart fast enough, it is rapidly disappearing, so fast that Patrick can barely look at Pete to utter his own promise; that he will never stop searching for him.</p><p>As the purple mist blankets the land of Oz, many families are ripped apart, identities lost, parts taken from them, but none so agonising as the two lovers who watched on the top of the hill, as the land they adore, and own love for each other, is torn asunder and changed forever.</p><p>~*~</p><p>Patrick's sanity is so close to the edge he might as well kiss a peaceful sleep goodbye. His evening looks like camping out in the woods filled with racked from the insufferable talking trees who are much too rude to let him pass by without throwing things at him. It is nothing personal, what he is about to do, and he is not going to even come near them. They are just being overdramatic, everybody is in this land. They spew nasty words at him and insult his mother but it all slides off his back and he drags on to get to a place that is not overridden by vocal forestry.</p><p>Day in and day out, Patrick's life is clockwork. He finds work to serve his purpose as a woodman and that's just about it. Where there is trouble he finds a way to get around it. Or avoid it. Which ever one is easier. He has no friends and he keeps it like that. There is no place he would call home, he just wanders through Oz and stays wherever he can find somewhere that's at least a little warm and extremely dry. Some would say it is quite a dull life but Patrick thinks of it as practical because there is no use having anybody or anything waiting for him when he physically, emotionally, mentally and all the other levels in the state of being, cannot get personally attached himself. It is better to be alone because when he tried otherwise it only worsened him and everybody around him.</p><p>So until he corrodes in a ditch somewhere, trimming and chopping trees will carry him onwards for as long as his metallic body will allow. It has gotten Patrick this far in life. Today is no different as he carries his axe over his shoulder, ignoring the threats he is receiving from the grumpy trees and even thinks, if he really deigns to care, that this day is more pleasant than most because the sun is particularly hot today. He doesn't know why it is so hot but that just makes it all the better. </p><p>Just as he is finishing up the last tree on the edge of the road and thinks that nothing could cause any trouble at this time and he might find a place to rest before dark, he feels a drop of water on his shoulder. And that is when, if he really cared, the pleasant day becomes a dreadful day. It all comes down at once like bullets hitting him and echoing off his hollow chest. Patrick rusts solid way faster than should be allowed and the rain continues for much longer, soaking the ground below him and his feet get splashed with mud. He thinks they may have sunk a little, making a permanent indent on the earth.</p><p>After that, Patrick only sees life in a blur. He is close enough to hear passerby on the road but too far to be visible through the growing branches. It could be a little better if his arm were not holding an axe giving a chronic ache in parts he didn't know were possible to ache, but he supposes that it could also be worse. If he thinks hard enough about it, this is not that different from before, in terms of being not really noticing the time go by and focusing in on the different nuances of his perspective to keep occupied, like how the sun hits the leaves a little to the left every other day. Besides Patrick's aching arm and the surrounding areas, he thinks that he could get used to the idea of staying here until the end of his days. </p><p>They come singing, of all things, along the road and Patrick strains to listen what has got them in such a mood. </p><p>"Oh, apples!" a girl's voice squeals and if Patrick could, he would physically roll his eyes. "Oh, look!" he hears rustling and then a smack that receives a cry of surprise. Sounds like she met the talking trees. </p><p>Patrick listens to the trees and her companion banter back and forth and when they start hurling their apples, he is honestly surprised they didn't start sooner. Some roll directly into his feet, and as if some kind of fate is with him on that day, the girl is crawling after them. </p><p>"A man...It's a man made out of tin!" She knocks on him several times on various parts of his body like one time is not enough to satisfy her that he is a man that is in fact, completely made of tin. Patrick forces all his willpower into forming sounds through his sealed lips that resemble something close to coherent sentences. </p><p>"What is it Dorothy?" a man's voice says from behind him. </p><p>"What's he saying?" Dorothy asks, leaning close to listen, some hair from the man grazing Patrick's ear, indicating that he is doing the same.</p><p>"Oil can?" Dorothy echoes, looking around.</p><p>"Oil can what?" the man repeats and Patrick grunts harder, willing them to look in the right direction. </p><p>"Oh!" Dorothy grabs it, quickly squirting the oil on Patrick's mouth. </p><p>As relief at the movement of merely twitching and stretching his jaw and taking in a breath through his lips courses through his soul, Patrick utters his first words in ages, "Ma...mah...my goodness. I can talk again," he could not have breathed faster to do his arms and elbows and they begin to oil the rest of his body. Each jerk of one of his limps is a pure sensation of bliss. He almost cries as she forces his elbow to bend down and gently shakes it.</p><p>"Does that hurt?" she asks, worry in her voice and Patrick just sighs from how wonderful it feels.</p><p>"No...it feels wonderful. I've held that axe up for ages," he can feel the tension that he was not even aware of easing up everywhere. "My neck...my neck please," </p><p>"Goodness, how did you ever get like this?" Dorothy passes his oil can to the man and begins brushing loose twigs and leaves away as he is too occupied being eased from months of physical stress to even think about tidying himself.</p><p>"Well, 'bout a year ago, I was chopping that tree, and suddenly it began to rain. And right in the middle of a chop, I...I rusted solid. Been that way ever since,"</p><p>Patrick feels his neck loosening and forces his head to turn, first to the right where she is oiling his shoulder more and then to the left where he can see the man clearly for the first time. Patrick is just about to turn his neck back to roll it from side to side when he stops and stares at him. What he sees shocks him to the point of loosing his balance and almost falling over. They rush to catch him and she starts to oil his knees and ankles so he can get his footing. But Patrick is still staring at him, speechless. He thought he would never see Pete ever again in his life. </p><p>It is really a sack of straw that he is looking at, it is not the real man that Patrick remembers from before, but it is Pete nonetheless. There is no mistaking it. He smiles at him curiously and says, "Well how do you do? My name's Pete!" then starts to help Dorothy relieve him of standing glued to the ground by oiling his joints and getting his feet out of the mud. He turns his neck forward and tries not to think about what in the land of Oz happened to him in the time since they last saw each other.</p><p>"Well, you're perfect now," she says with joy as they finish their work.</p><p>"Perfect?" Patrick asks, bending his knees and looking off to the side at her optimism. "Bang on my chest if you think I'm perfect. Go ahead bang on it,"</p><p>It is a thumping he has heard many times before, that insatiable hollowness that nearly drowns out all of the other sounds in the land to him. However much he hears it, Patrick can never really get it out of his head. Even though he has grown acquainted with it far sooner than he would like to admit.</p><p>"Beautiful! What an echo," Pete says, still smiling and looking absolutely thrilled at everything.</p><p>Patrick shakes his head, not completely looking him in the eye, and says to him, "It's empty," Pete's smile falters and as they wait for an explanation, Patrick realises that he literally does not have the heart to tell the truth.</p><p>They both lean in to hear him mutter, "The tin smith forgot to give me a heart,"</p><p>"No heart?" they say simultaneously, crestfallen for the stranger they have only just met.</p><p>Patrick shakes his head again. "No heart, all hollow" He pats his chest for good measure and begins walking towards the path, his joints squeaking every time he takes a step, dragging his axe and oil can. "Now, thank you for your generous help, kind lady and sir, but I should find some shelter quickly and get some rest with the tedious year behind me," Dorothy and Pete begin following him, not getting the hint.</p><p>"We're on our way to see the Wizard," Dorothy says, gesturing towards Pete, thinking that Patrick does not have peripheral vision.</p><p>"Are you," says Patrick.</p><p>"That's right! Dorothy here has gotten special ruby slippers and everything from the Good Witch of the North," Pete says after nodding vigorously back to Dorothy. "She's gonna ask the wizard to help her go back home in Kansas, wherever that is! And since I'm just a scarecrow that's made of straw with no brain, I'm gonna ask the wizard for one! See, we's are both going to the Emerald City and maybe you'd like to come with us and ask the wizard for a heart! What do you say...say, we's never caught your name!" </p><p>"Patrick," he says, not stopping, very uncomfortable with what Pete has said about himself and what has happened to him that he has worked so hard to repress from Patrick's mind.</p><p>"Don't you wish you had a heart, Patrick?" Dorothy asks, walking faster.</p><p>"Not at all," Patrick replies, still not stopping.</p><p>"What would you do with a heart if you had one?" </p><p>Patrick wonders if back where she comes from everybody is always this daft.</p><p>"Listen," Patrick stops, resulting in him almost toppling over because he has not walked in a year, and they rush to steady him. "I appreciate your interest, I really do. But all I wanted was to get unstuck and go on with my life. I don't really have any desire to visit the wizard or anything,"</p><p>"Why not though?" Pete asks, touching his arm for a brief moment and Patrick looks away. "I've spent all my life without a brain," Patrick's eyes flicker to Pete's who nods and continues, "This is the grandest opportunity I've ever received and I couldn't just turn my head and let it pass me by! And Dorothy is stuck here in a land where she is away from her family and home,"</p><p>"And doesn't everybody deserve to have a heart and a brain and a home?" Dorothy asks desperately, and Patrick has half a mind not to answer what comes to his mind when thinking about that question. </p><p>There is something to be admired of their ongoing persistence, he has to admit to himself. The thing with Patrick is that he is a very simple man. He is a very simple man with a system that has not changed in years. He has not had to worry himself about his purpose, nor what has happened in his past nor what will happen in his future. All he has known is that a heartless life never carries any baggage along, and the only repercussions he feels through his actions are the echoes in his empty chest. He has not had to think about hardly anything for a long time and that has served him good so far. So as much as Patrick tries, he cannot find any motive to go on this arbitrary journey to somebody who is probably only a legend, and he is simply much too tired to pretend that he will ever get a happy ending at this point.</p><p>"You're right," Patrick addresses Dorothy, and then Pete, "Everybody deserves to feel and think and belong. But I'm simply much too tired. I've been rusting on the edge of that road for a long time, and now I just want to move on with my life. I don't need any wayward adventures. Good day to the both of you,"</p><p>He turns away and begins walking again, already thinking naively that he has gotten away when Pete's voice calls after him. "You've not answered Dorothy's question. What would you do with a heart if you had one?"</p><p>Patrick pauses mid step and curses ever surrendering to the vulnerability of his past and relaying his little issue of organ absence that he also swore to never tell a living soul and wonders why in Oz he decided to start today. And of all the existing creatures, to these two in particular. </p><p>"You don't have to say right now, maybe you'll find the answer on the way there, or when you meet the wizard. All in the right time,"  Pete says to Patrick's back. "But just take a chance and come with us. You could discover something you never thought was possible. And besides, you look like you could use some company after spending a year alone in your mind," </p><p>It seems like the woods have gone completely silent just to hear what would come next. Patrick really should not turn around. He really should not because he knows what it would mean. It would mean breaking the precious and fragile routine he has been following for so long to not take any chances and absolutely not be in the company of anyone. It would mean turning around and answering the question. And that is exactly what Patrick does.</p><p>"If I had a heart, I guess that I'd have emotion, I would feel things I hadn't ever felt. I'd be able to know what love, hate, and everything in between is like. I suppose I would be the closest to a human that I ever could be," he says, knowing that there is much more he could do with a heart than merely resemble a human, but they do not need to know about that. </p><p>Pete beams at him and Dorothy, both hands clutched together over her own heart, exclaims, "That's so great! Won't you come with us to the Emerald City? You've been so lonely for so long and getting a heart could do you some good! The wizard will give you a heart, he must! We've come such a long way already," </p><p>Maybe it is a complete lack of common sense that must be finally hitting him, or the fact that he has been rusted for longer than is probably healthy for his mental health, or even seeing Pete after what feels like lifetimes, but Patrick knows something has changed his mind as Dorothy is talking and they slowly approach him. He can feel his decision surfacing into a tangible figure that materialises right in front of his very eyes that will probably come back and haunt him later in the form of regret. Or perhaps it is already here, and he is staring it in the face right at this very moment, dressed behind a bunch of straw and large scraps of fabric acting as clothing. Either way, he says to them that he will go with them.</p><p>Dorothy applauds. Pete does a celebratory jump and Patrick watches them and sighs. "Shall we go then?" he says after they finish singing and dancing about something to do with wonderful wizards. </p><p>"Oh! Yes, we really should hurry!" Dorothy says, laughing about something Patrick cannot comprehend at the present moment, and is not sure if he really wants to. At his stare, she explains, "We like inventing songs and dancing along the way, you should try it!"</p><p>"No thanks," he says, immediately moving to walk besides Pete. And with that positivity mixed with Patrick's indifference, they are off to the Emerald City. There is something familiar that Patrick feels when walking next to him, although Pete is somebody else, he still resembles the same person Patrick knew before. And that familiarity gives him unease because he likes the feeling. What is really wrong in this situation is that he should not be feeling anything. And yet here he is, getting comfortable with Pete and going on a journey to seek a heart that he knows cannot be replaced.</p><p>~*~</p><p>The sun rises above them upon the Emerald City, radiating abundance and life. The four enter her gates, unknowing of the reaction they will cause throughout the land. They are welcomed with open arms, marvelling at the wonder and joy the City brings, never suspecting of the mystery of it all. Perhaps that is the beauty of it, it hold many secrets but will always reveal them to the right company, at the right time.</p><p>After they have been pampered and prepped, the travellers proceed with excitement to reveal their achievement of destroying the dangerous threat that was infecting Oz. </p><p>The arrival of a girl and a house that journeyed through Oz, defeated the Wicked Witch of the West and met the Wizard inspired many to talk. Whispers carried in the wind and soon enough, most of the land was gathered at the ground of the City, seeking news and just a glimpse of the travellers that had accomplished such a feat.</p><p>The Wizard, of course, grants Dorothy passage to the world from which they both come from. Her companions receive gifts of equal value and every citizen that is present cheers at the farewell party. It is a celebration and will surely be talked about for centuries as the biggest event to go down in the history of Oz. </p><p>As the Wizard departs, Dorothy makes the mistake of being a little too giddy and not holding her dog tight enough. All seems lost as she loses her ride home, until the famous bubble appears and a good hearted witch reveals a different option. One that simply could have been used at the very beginning but was not for purposes unknown to this day.</p><p>Dorothy departs using the ruby slippers, and as she fades, there is a hush over the crowd. Two foreign beings have entered and left the land. The people are eager to spread the news. </p><p>The crowd disperses and leaves to carry on with their ignorant bliss of what is about to come. In the very place Dorothy vanished, a spark ignites like lightning. It surges through the land, searching for a place to spread. The flash finds the exact spot where it danced the last time it visited. </p><p>The mist blankets the land of Oz, as it does every time foreign subjects are freshly introduced or completely departed. It receives varied reactions, some run out of fear, not knowing what it is, others stay and continue their business like it does not matter. When it clears, the true spirit of every creature is released. As Patrick and Pete slowly turn to each other, they become themselves again. Patrick feels a wonderful sensation coursing through his body, desperate to get out. Pete's eyes fill with joy as he remembers and recognises the man in front of him. They embrace, overwhelmed of their transformation and returning of certain qualities removed. Two lovers reunited, heart and head and everything else true and completely devoted to each other. </p><p>They wander through the land, holding one another again and counting of all the stories that the other missed out on. </p><p>Dusk arrives and as the parties and tearful reunions carry on, an emerald flash bursts through the sky when the sun descends into the ground, lifting the heads of every creature and causing a joint cheer as the creatures of Oz know they are restored and the tornado of chaos is finally settled.</p>
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